Role Reversal #1
by Lechuza Tempestade
Summary: Bad tea. VERY BAD TEA.
1. Default Chapter Title

[PARODY] (Aoshi x Misao)

***The characters used in this work are the copyrighted property of their original creator. I do not seek profit from my writing. I would prefer that you did not copy my work, but I can't stop you.***

As I was lolling about thinking to myself just how badly the series NEEDS a cold, impassive female character, this great idea came to me; if tainted tea turns the tables (awful alliteration alert), it's immensely interesting. Please enjoy, and feel free to send C&C to lechuza@herzeleid.net .

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"Role Reversal"

The tea served in the Oniwa Banshu's Aoiya was pretty normal tea: the usual soapy green powder the Japanese are so fond of. None of the occupants who drank it thought more or less of it. Neither did the wholesale merchant who charged it to Okina's account. Quality control wasn't the priority in the Meiji Era.

Perhaps no one would have drank the tea if they had known where it had come from.

Even so far back in history, Japan was always lacking in space. So when a great tea interest decided to dig up a daimyo's estate graveyard to make room for new fields, no one batted an eyelash. The age of the samurai was over and gone now, anyway. Thus tea was grown on that tainted land, and the door was opened for all sorts of problems.

Indeed, nothing seemed unusual to Misao as she used a straw whisk to mix the green substance with hot water in the worn old teapot. She wasn't concentrating on the tea *at all*. A tiny giggle escaped her lips as she placed the teapot on a lacquered tray with two cups. Aoshi waited in the drawing room for his evening tea on this very brisk winter night, and she was going to be the one to serve it to her.

It didn't matter to Misao that Aoshi barely seemed to care if she lived or died. Surely he would see the light someday, surely he would understand! And she just knew Aoshi loved her as much as she loved him...

"Arigatou." Aoshi remained stone-faced as Misao set the tea tray down on the low table between them. Stolidly he sat, watching with the blankest of expressions as she poured his cup, and then her own. Steam rose from the stoneware cups in sinuous transparent patterns.

Tucking the hem of her kimono beneath her, Misao knelt on the tatami. Admittedly, it was unusual of her to be so dressed up just hanging about the Aoiya, but she had a specific goal attached to the jewel-toned, embroidered silk: to impress Aoshi. And indeed, the amethyst fabric embroidered with silver butterflies and tied with a silver obi was stunning, giving her eyes a luminous quality that her plain Ninja uniform never could. But Aoshi, being Aoshi, either didn't notice or pretended not to.

With a quiet, archetypical Japanese slurp, Aoshi downed half his cup of tea. It seared the back of his tongue and throat pleasantly, warming his belly. There was a faint bitter acidity, but he ignored it. The quality of _matchka _wasn't particularly consistent anyway.

Watching him stonily enjoy the refreshments, Misao felt her heart sink. Nothing she ever did seem to make an impression on him! It was as though he hadn't even noticed her gorgeous outfit. In a sudden burst of temper she slammed down her empty cup.

"I'm going to bed, Aoshi-sama. If you need any more tea, you can help yourself."

Idly, Aoshi watched the Ninja girl's retreating back, and returned to the tea. No telling what her problem was.

Upstairs in her quarters, Misao threw off the beautiful garments with a huff. Flinging herself down onto her futon, she buried her face in the softness. Why, why, WHY couldn't he see how she felt for him?!

Misao's awakening the next morning wasn't completely unusual. As always, her first thought was about Aoshi. But unlike usual, it was rather cold.

Fine. If he can't appreciate me, then I don't want anything to do with him anymore.

Squinting in the sunlight that filtered in through the filigree wooden shutters, she had a sudden startling thought.

What is it I ever saw in him, anyway?

In his own room, Aoshi was just awakening also. But his thoughts were taking a completely different path.

Misao! What have I been DOING?

Stumbling up from the futon and practically into a wall, his eyes still blinded by sleep, Aoshi shook his head so hard he felt his neck crack. All these years he had ignored the most beautiful girl in the world's pleas for love, competing with his own revenge, Oniwa Banshu business, and the occasional other woman for his interest. He knew if he didn't shape up he would lose his chance forever. He wasn't able to see himself sweatdrop and get huge hearts for eyes as he thought of Misao, but the reader can imagine.

Stepping into the breakfast room, Misao frowned. The Aoiya had always seemed cold to her, but today the temperature seemed perfect to her. She responded to Okina and Omasu's morning salutations with a fractional nod. None of her usual smiles or bubbly greetings. She felt weird.

Skipping down the hallway, Aoshi could do nothing but wonder what was wrong with him. He had never skipped, not even when he was little. He wondered distantly how far he was from tying a pink ribbon in his hair, or something similar.

"Good morning, Aoshi-sama." Omasu gave the former Okashira a slightly odd look. He was a bit flushed, perkier looking than usual.

"Ne, Omasu. Good morning!"

Now that's just weird. Blinking, Omasu watched as Aoshi stopped in front of the door to the dining room, taking a deep breath to steel himself. Then he walked through, kneeling opposite Misao.

"Misao?"

"Hn?" Misao barely looked up from her breakfast of soup and rice. Her voice was unusually chilly and distant, her eyes more dispassionate than he had ever seen them.

"Misao..."

"What is it, Aoshi-sama?"

Aoshi looked down at his hands, examining the ridges and bumps of calluses from his years of practice with the long knife.

"Misao...I've been thinking...I've been denying the way I feel about you for too long." He looked up. "I love you, and I know you feel the same way."

Misao's expression didn't change even the slightest. There was less change in a lantern flame over the course of a single second.

"I see."

"We are meant to be together, Misao!" Aoshi gave the very composed girl a pleading look, tears forming a shining patina over his dark eyes. "Please."

Misao did not smile, did not laugh, did not cry, did not return the sentiment. She merely gave him a cool once-over, then sipped her soup.

"I do not love you. I can never love you. Please give it up."

"But...but..."

Aoshi burst into tears as he ran from the room, the door slamming behind him. Okina and Omasu stared after him, then looked at Misao sitting quietly at breakfast.

"It must be something in the water..."


	2. Part 2

***The characters used in this work are the copyrighted property of their original creator. I do not seek profit from my writing. I would prefer that you did not copy my work, but I can't stop you.***

Angle brackets denote italics, which denote thoughts, narration, or emphasis according to context.

Back by popular demand! After I wrote the first part based on this idea, I got numerous replies. More hits on fanfiction.net than I've ever gotten for anything, and more than one plea for a sequel. So now, in the complete, consuming boredom of my third-period Webmastering class, I will comply. Please enjoy, and e-mail C&C to me at lechuza@herzeleid.net .

[PARODY] Role Reversal- Part 2 (Aoshi x Misao)

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Such a lovely spring morning at the Aoiya should have been peaceful. The leaves of the trees glowed bright, jewel-toned green in the warm sunlight, casting patterns of sleepy shadows on the soft grass below. The fragrance of early spring wildflowers filled the air; not as cloying as the persistent jasmine and rose of the summer that lurked around the corner.

With a sudden squawk and beating of heavy wings, a flock of ravens ascended from one of the trees, flying away in a mass of screaming displeasure. A lone figure outside in the beauty of nature had kicked the Chinese oak, shaking it considerably.

Damn it. I could have sworn she'd fallen for me as hard as I had for her!

The scowl on Aoshi's face would have been priceless to anyone there to see. Then again, he had been a lot more expressionate recently. Slamming doors, voicing his opinion, skipping down hallways when he was in a good mood: and always with a pert, toothy smile.

Misao, by contrast, had flown universes away from her former self. She was always silent now, rarely having an opinion on anything. If she did, she never stated it. And she spent most of her time at the nearby temple, meditating on Kami-sama knew what. Most disturbingly, she had donned a black leather trenchcoat the day after the odd behavior first began and refused to take it off.

It would be obvious to anyone who had ever known both Aoshi and Misao that this was a startling reversal of their behaviors. Aoshi was supposed to be the sullen one in the trenchcoat, and Misao the bubbly dreamer. The other members of the Oniwa Banshu were taking it in stride, to the best of their individual abilities. And this was all because of tea grown on land full of unearthed samurai graves.

Aoshi sighed, plopping down on the grass. In this little spot, the ground was nearly overgrown with tiny yellow and pink flowers, providing only a very gentle fragrance. Plucking a pink one, he curled its stem behind his ear, unaware of the ridiculous picture he presented at that very moment.

Misao, however, was aware.

She watched Aoshi from behind a nearby tree, more silent in her breathing and contemplations than she had been in her entire lifetime as a ninja. But then, she had never been quite the ninja Aoshi was.

Despite her determination to forget him after years of continuous shunning on his part, Misao found herself as haunted as ever. His new behavior was proof to her that it wasn't merely his icy, impossible-to-breach façade that made him so powerfully attractive. He wasn't only desirable because he was hard to get.

He was unforgettable.

It never occurred to Misao that she might finally be feeling the attraction he felt for her. Even surrounded by sunlight and delicate flowers, he was deliciously masculine. Utterly appealing to her physically. Although she had known desire for him before, her longing for him now hit in the form of a stab deep in her stomach. Guilt rose up through her like vapors of bile, making her blink.

Guilt? Why?

It didn't take any effort on Misao's part to hold back the tears that stung a deep trail from the back of her brain to her eyes. They simply wouldn't come. It was as though she was frozen in her existence, held suspended in time, her emotions shoved so far to the side that they had fallen off a cliff and could never be retrieved.

Including my love? Or could this be more than lust?

At that, she remembered something Sanosuke had once said to Aoshi:

Did they cut out your heart as well as your tongue?

The memory haunted Misao as she turned back to the Aoiya. She needed some tea to cool her nerves. Oddly, she'd been craving it more than ever the past few days, despite the odd bitter taste of this particular shipment.

Back outside, Aoshi finally sat up. The sunlight had warmed his thick hair and pale skin deliciously, sending a penetrating burning throughout him that made him wonder what he had been missing, spending so much time locked up in the temple. He did not for a moment miss his old dispassionateness, the coldness, the block of iron he had hidden his emotions behind. A block that was too heavy for him to move by the time he realized it was the harm it was doing.

Brushing grass off his cute bottom, he stretched sensuously. He craved sweets all of a sudden. Something about lounging in the sunshine made him hungry.

In the kitchen, he found Misao starting a pot of tea.

"Ne, Misao, why don't you sit down and let me make that for you? I'd like some too."

"Arigatou." The way she said the single word burned oddly familiar in his mind, causing him to frown for a moment. Misao withdrew into the dining area so silently that he found it disturbing.

In an eerie green typhoon, the bamboo whisk swirled through the matchka and hot water. He stopped to contemplate the mixture of darkness and foam for only a moment before putting the stoneware pot on a tray and taking it out into the dining room to Misao. On an afterthought, he added a few of the sweet potato cakes Misao had bought the last time she went shopping. He had craved them terribly recently.

Misao knelt, cloaked by the black trenchcoat and her own silence, as Aoshi poured her a cup of the steaming tea. At the sight of the confections she raised a single sleek eyebrow, but made no comment. Stifling her amusement, Misao watched as he scarfed down one in a single bite and then offered her one. She accepted with a slight nod, nibbling it with a very un-Misao-like dispassion.

Tilting her head back, Misao downed her tea. It singed her throat enough to make her eyes water, but the bitterness wasn't so prominent this time. When she put her cup down it was as though an emerald film was covering her vision. The odd color masked the strange look that had come over Aoshi's face after finishing his own tea.

Understanding.

Something there had never been before. Pure, simple, complete, and mutual.

Aoshi's indigo eyes narrowed into slits the color of the night sky. The old defenses were back in place. The sweet potato cake tasted like mush in his mouth. But he could see what he'd been blind to before: her love, her complete acceptance of his past and present, her breathless admiration of his beauty and skill.

And the same for Misao. Although they were no longer her own, she clearly felt his guilt and anger, longing and persistent sense of unworthiness. His desire.

The teacups rested on the table, empty except for a few grains of green tea grit in the bottom of each. But it was amazing how little emptiness it took to fill up the black spaces within kindred hearts.


End file.
